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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553217">Empty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dammitspawk/pseuds/dammitspawk'>dammitspawk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dwarf (UK TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F, Softlight Rimmer, pre-Parallel Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dammitspawk/pseuds/dammitspawk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rimmer wonders what it would be like to let go of pretense and let herself live as freely as Lister does. For a moment she lets herself try, but she is, after all, a coward.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deb Lister/Arlene Rimmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Empty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this at the request of Leah who wanted more lesbians content, and she was absolutely correct. I enjoyed this immensely.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Arlene surveyed herself in the mirror, narrowing her eyes slightly. Her flaws popped out at her, there was always some time in the day for self deprecation. Knowing ones shortcomings helped one strive for a better self. This is what her mother told her regularly, just after pointing out every way in which Arlene was a disappointment to her family, as her father sat in his window chair shaking his head and fondling a cross stitch.</p><p class="p1">“Hilly, lip gloss please.”</p><p class="p1">A bottle materialized in front of her on the shelf under the mirror. Clear as glass and sporting a little H as if to remind Rimmer it wasn’t real and neither was she. Real or not, she could still look proper. She pulled out the wand with a slick pop and brought it to her mouth. Lips, too thin. Nose, too present. Hair, curls untameable.</p><p class="p1">Maybe she wasn’t <em>perfect, </em>but she was the ideal specimen of womanhood compared to her only remaining competition. That was <em>for sure. </em>Her hair was curly, but at least she didn’t keep it in disgusting, long dreads. Her breasts were small, but at least she wasn’t flat as a board. Her posture was perfect, her shoulders were never loose like Lister’s. She wasn’t tall but she had a couple inches on her roommate, enough to be looking down to make eye contact. Lister’s form wasn’t as refined as hers, well it could be if she didn’t wear all those baggy clothes. Shirts that were bright colours and usually covered in whatever form of slobbery she’d been engaging in that day. Deb Lister seemed to flaunt her freedom in every way possible, acting like it was her right to be a slob.</p><p class="p1">Comparing herself to Lister used to make Rimmer feel much better about herself. Now instead of pride in herself she just found that she got lost in thoughts about Deb.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer wasn’t a fool. She knew the charade she played at when they were alive wouldn’t be able to sustain her for the rest of her life (well death) when there were only two of them and a dog left. Big Boys In Boots magazine and the nearly naked men plastered all over the inside of her locker were tricking nobody where there was nobody left to trick, and half the time she felt like she should give up on the premise all together. But there was still Lister, and she was still Rimmer.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer knew Lister wouldn’t be the least bit bothered whether she was attracted to women or not. She would have an absolute field day with it though, Arlene was sure of that. She would make jokes, poke Rimmer about it at every possibility - but that’s what they did. That’s what kept them sane.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer screwed the lipgloss wand back onto the bottle and watched it fade out of existence a moment or two after she put it down.</p><p class="p1">Not for the first time she wondered what it would be like to let herself go. To allow herself the freedom that Lister enjoyed so carelessly, even just for a night. Even when they’d gotten drunk together she’d never forgotten who she had made herself out to be. She went on about the virtues of the Hammond Organ instead of how she wished she’d been able to play the flute so she could make melodies dance over an orchestra. She prattled proudly about her liaison with Vaughn McGruder, rather than mentioning how she had been staring at the woman who McGruder was supposed to have been fumbling around with for most of the evening. Spoke proudly of her sisters’ success without going into the ways in which they’d tortured Arlene as a child.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer had really been screwed over by death. Second technician forever, never another chance to crawl her way up the ziggurat. When they were alive blindly hating Lister had been easy. Rimmer had aspirations, and plenty of other eye candy to keep her sated. Now all she had were the moments where she gave in to imagining what Lister would look like in a bikini reclining on a sandy beach in Fiji. No Kristopher Kochanski included.</p><p class="p1">Why did it <em>have </em>to be <em>Lister?</em></p><p class="p1">Lister who was probably off having the time of her life destroying her eardrums in her favourite of Red Dwarf’s empty clubs.</p><p class="p1">“Hilly, where is she?”</p><p class="p1">“Who?”</p><p class="p1">“The Queen of Io, who do you think? <em>Lister, </em>you senile old coot!”</p><p class="p1">Hilly gave her what might have been a dirty look, if she were even capable of such a thing.</p><p class="p1">“Well calm down Arlie, she was gonna be my third guess. Where d’you think? She’s in the same place she is every Saturday.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s Thursday,” Rimmer huffed at the computer.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, could have fooled me,” was all Hilly had to say before disappearing again.</p><p class="p1">“Why do I even <em>bother</em>,” she sighed to herself, before making her way down the corridor. Why did she? It was obvious she already knew Lister far better than she’d ever wanted to.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer felt the music before she heard it, and when she did hear it she hesitated to even call it music. Screeching guitars and enough bass drum to tumble a building all being iced off by constant crashing of cymbals. Her grimace stretched across her lips as she came to stand in the doorway of the club.</p><p class="p1">There was Lister, bopping up and down wildly to the rhythm. How she even found it in the cacophony of noise, Rimmer wouldn’t know. Beer cans littered the stage, half of them knocked over. One of them set nearer to where Deb was dancing and every minute or so she picked it up and took a sip, most of which dribbled down her chin. The complete obviousness that she didn’t care wafted off her like the reek of sweat and beer. So what was it that made Rimmer ache to be the one on that dance floor? Maybe she would have been too, if she’d had as much to drink as Lister had. That was an idea.</p><p class="p1">It was too late to start drinking, but Arlene could fake it. She could, just to give herself a night of freedom. She deserved it, after all keeping Lister sane and being the highest ranking officer (technician) on a starship was hard work.</p><p class="p1"><em>“Come on, Rimsy,” </em>she breathed to herself, <em>“live a little!”</em></p><p class="p1">She took a breath and worked on loosening her shoulders and knees. Keeping her eyes on Lister (who still hadn’t noticed her) she strode over to the dance floor with the ragged confidence three gin cocktails would give you.</p><p class="p1">“Hi Listy, how’s it hanging?” She slurred her ‘s’s and let her hand find her hip idly, while leaning too far to right. She made sure to ‘catch’ herself before she lost her balance.</p><p class="p1">“Rimmer!” Lister stopped her dancing and raised her eyebrows at her. “Did you lose your way going to the captain’s office? I know you like to go there and sit in her chair when you think we don’t see you.”</p><p class="p1">Arlene bristled, “Of course not! I-“ she stopped herself and forced her limbs to relax. “I came <em>here </em>because I wanted to um... dance,” she half-slurred. She smiled, letting her lids look heavy.</p><p class="p1"><em>“Arlie</em>, are you <em>drunk?” </em>Lister sounded surprised but she was smiling back at her.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer hated when Hilly called her Arlie. No matter what she tried she couldn’t get her to stop. She used to hate it when Lister teased her with it too, back when she was alive. She didn’t mind it coming out of Deb’s mouth so much anymore.</p><p class="p1">“I may have had...” Rimmer racked her brain for an appropriate sounding number, “a few cocktails thisss evening.”</p><p class="p1">Lister raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p class="p1">“Or four... or, um, fffive?” Rimmer amended. She had to yell over the music and she could already feel her throat getting sore. The thick smoke hanging in the air from Lister’s chain smoking wasn’t helping either.</p><p class="p1">“Must have, if you came down here to <em>dance,”</em> her roommate chuckled back.</p><p class="p1">“That’s right I have,” Arlene nodded enthusiastically. She then stood there, at a loss for words.</p><p class="p1">“Well?” Lister said, still moving without missing a beat, “go on then Rimmer, it’s not hard.”</p><p class="p1">Lister was obviously enjoying this, her face wide with a smile. Let her, this whole thing was about not caring what Lister or anyone else thought.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer watched Lister as she closed her eyes and moved to the beat. She shook her head like there was nothing inside it, her hips swayed and her feet moved, all parts of her independent from one another but shifting in unison to the beat. Crinkles graced the corners of her closed eyes as a carefree grin filled the rest of her face. A guitar squealed as Deb bent her knee to the bass drum’s kick.</p><p class="p1">This was nothing like morris dancing.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer let herself find the beat. Moving like this was one of the most awkward things she’d ever done but she soon began to enjoy herself.</p><p class="p1">Lister looked up at her and laughed.</p><p class="p1">“That’s right Rimsy, now you’re getting it!”</p><p class="p1">Lister was so drunk that Rimmer wondered if she could even see her but her smile was infectious, and maybe it was the atmosphere, the sweat fumes getting to her head, but Rimmer found herself smiling back. She bopped and bent and moved in crazy ways, but mostly she just watched what Lister was doing.</p><p class="p1">She let herself get drawn in by that smile, the goofy faces she made when she mimed along with the guitar. The music slowed a bit and Lister began to sway her hips and shoulders to the strumming of a bass guitar. The action caught Rimmer’s focus as she tried to mimic those movements, moving nearer to the other woman without noticing. It was easier now that she’s stopped whipping her head with such force that the velocity of her dreads could knock out a horse.</p><p class="p1">At some point, Lister must have opened her eyes because they were now boring straight into Rimmer’s. Rimmer let them keep her hostage, as their bodies moved without thought. Lister’s beer can forgotten at their feet, Rimmer could feel the other woman’s hot breath on her cheek, it smelled sour with beer but Rimmer hardly noticed. They were so close, and she so desperately wanted to give in.</p><p class="p1">She swayed slightly and it was just enough for Rimmer’s nose to pass right through Lister’s, and in that jarring moment Arlene was slammed back into reality.</p><p class="p1">“I think I’m- I need to-“</p><p class="p1">Rimmer backed away from her, slur gone from her voice and tension back in her shoulders. The last thing she saw before spinning around was Lister’s knowing eyes and sultry smirk. Arlene stalked out of the club with a purposeful stride but as soon as she rounded the corner she took off in a jaunty run and maintained it all the way back to their bunkroom. The coward’s sprint, as Lister had described it once.</p><p class="p1">Her stomach was turning, she really did feel like she was about to hurl. She bent, hands on her knees as she huffed out heavy breathes, hologramatic lungs tired from her dash. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>What a wreck, can’t even sprint, what, 300 metres?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Can’t even dance like a buffoon for five minutes?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Can’t handle Lister’s teasing?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Can’t even manage to not want to snog your roommate, even though she’s the last surviving human?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Well that one isn’t fair was it? She glared back at her reflection. When was it that she began to look past Lister’s stench, her scathing remarks, her lack of class and respect, her selfishness and lackadaisical attitude, inability to keep anything she owned clean, her drinking habits, her annoying hobbies?</p><p class="p1">Rimmer was disappointed with herself, in all honesty. She knew she could do much better. In fact she was pretty confident she could snag any woman, if she put her mind to it. The tactless pick up lines meant for witless men might not work but the eye contact hypnosis would, certainly.</p><p class="p1">But here there was only Lister. It had been Lister she’d faked drunkeness to dance with in the club. It had been Lister she’d danced too close to with a thoughtless grin on her face. It was Lister, who she couldn’t even touch. There was Lister. There would always be Lister.</p><p class="p1">Even with no one around to maintain a facade of heterosexuality around, even with no one to judge her. Even with no one left to baffle or impress. She would never be able to touch, or hold, or kiss Lister. So there was no point in trying to convince Deb that she should want Arlene to.</p><p class="p1">Her gaze caught the reflected H on her forehead. Although she couldn’t perceive its presence in reality, it still felt to her like a scab of a recent wound. She itched to pull it off, let it heal fresh, even if it meant scarring. Her hand found her forehead without meaning to.</p><p class="p1">Rimmer turned her back on the mirror, throwing herself into her bunk and closing her eyes. She imagined herself as an island, solid in the middle of a sea, and tried to convince herself she missed the time when she genuinely hated Lister.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
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